


Happiness Is Only Real When Shared

by depthsofmysol



Series: The Journal of Arthur and Eames [5]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family, Fluff, Love, M/M, New Years Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 15:02:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/depthsofmysol/pseuds/depthsofmysol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After months of jumping through hoops, the call both Arthur and Eames have been waiting for finally arrives. But will they get the answer they've been hoping for? Or will it be yet another disappointment?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happiness Is Only Real When Shared

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [aeholidaybang](http://http://aeholidaybang.tumblr.com/) holi-daily bang challenge. The prompt: Eames and/or Arthur must receive a phone call that will change their holiday season.

Multiple bottles of champagne, hors'doeuvres on almost every available surface, along with a variety of cakes had Arthur wondering if maybe they'd gone a bit overboard with their celebration. It was supposed to have been a modest affair, something small with their friends to celebrate ringing in the new year together. Somehow it had turned into an extended celebration of their marriage, and their affair had grown to include all of their family that had flown in for the event. Luckily their penthouse apartment would handle the increase of people but he was still wondering if maybe it would have been better to have just kept things small.

"Everything okay, Arthur? Not regretting anything are you?" It was a look Eames had seen a few times before. First when they'd talked about a future, then when they discussed a family. Now, though, he wasn't sure what would have the look of uncertainty, and fear so visible on his husband's face. The only thing he could think of was that he was having second thoughts everything.

"No, no of course not," he said, walking over towards Eames, and wrapping his arms around his waist, "no regrets, okay?"

When Washington joined the ranks of states that allowed same sex couples to marry, they'd joined the throngs of couples who had decided to stand in line and be some of the first to get a marriage license. It hadn't mattered that they would need to wait three days before they could actually get married, or that they both had jobs they needed to be at early the next morning, or even that at some point in the next week they would have the last of their official home visits. All that had mattered was they were there, together.

It wasn't something he regretted. If anything, he was oddly proud of the fact that he and Eames were officially husband and husband. And then there were times when he caught himself staring at the black titanium ring on his left hand, and couldn't help but smile. Arthur didn't regret the impromptu wedding one bit. Not even the stress that came along with it. Both of their families were happy that they'd finally decided to take that next step, having been together for almost four years.

What had him concerned was the fact their social worker hadn't called since their last home visit. She'd told them it could be anywhere from a few days to a few months before they heard anything, and not to worry. But this was him they were talking about. Worry was something he did on a daily basis. If it wasn't his job, it was their finances, and if it wasn't that it was the condo they'd just purchased. Arthur was the type who was constantly worrying, and it was only Eames who reminded him that they had nothing to worry about, that everything would be fine, and to stop worrying unnecessarily.

"Well, come out here and mingle," Eames suggested, running his hands down Arthur's back, "I think your mother was asking me about the adoption process, and I _know_ you're the better person to answer her questions."

"But – "

"No buts. The phone isn't going to just automatically ring because you're glaring at it," he quickly interrupted, knowing the sooner he put away the man's fears the better, "it'll happen when it happens, and not a moment sooner."

Unwrapping Arthur's arms from his waist, Eames led him out of the kitchen, through their main living area, and out onto their veranda. Most of their guests had decided to use the unseasonably dry night to take in the skyline, and Space Needle. The view alone was worth having all the extra people. Especially when they'd originally planned only roughly half a dozen people. It didn't seem right that they shouldn't share this sort of thing with their families.

When they'd originally purchased the place the previous year, the veranda, and view were the main things that had attracted him to the place. Along with the open floor plan, it gave the sense of freedom, and creativity. He loved the place, even though they spent far more money than they needed to. And he'd told Arthur this time and time again. Now, he wondered if they should even keep the place once they were approved for the adoption. It wasn't the sort of place they should raise kids in, but Arthur had mentioned in their previous discussion that was exactly why he'd bought it – all the open places for them to run, and the proximity to all the parks, and one of the private schools they'd wanted to be close to.

"We're not selling this place," Arthur said out of the blue, snuggling back into his husband's embrace, "so don't even think about bringing it up again."

"Arthur," Eames replied, "a high rise isn't a place to raise children. They need more than just a space to run –"

"And yet there are plenty of children in this building," he retorted, rubbing his hands up and down his husband's arms, "just trust me, okay? Have I ever lead us astray?"

"No, that you haven't poppet," Eames agreed, nuzzling into the other man's neck, "it just seems rather strange to have a child grow up without any sort of yard. But I love you and trust you so we shall see how it goes."

Humming his agreement, Arthur closed his eyes, and rested his head against Eames' shoulder, allowing the man more access to his throat. He'd already started to gently nip and kiss, and were they not amongst their closest friends and family he was quite certain they would have made their way to the lounge, divested each other of their clothing, and proved to the other just how much they were loved until the fireworks signalled the clock had struck midnight.

"Arthur? Eames? There's a Corrine on the phone for you two?"

Eames immediately knew that Arthur would be the one who wanted to dash to the phone, and instead of allowing him to go, ordered him to stay put, that he would talk to their social worker instead. He knew it would be difficult for him to sit and wait, remembering just how much he'd been worried over the last few months. But he was the calmer of the two, and would be able to handle and answer any questions Corrine might have.

"Hello?" He said, trying desperately to calm his own nerves, "this is he."

As Corrine continued to talk, Eames found his thoughts drifting back to the first time he'd met Arthur, and how disastrous their first date had been. He remembered how smitten he'd been at the time, and hoped for a second date. Unfortunately, that date had been almost as disastrous as the first, and it was then he knew it was more than just a crush. By their third date, which had been a smashing success, he knew exactly how he felt for the man who preferred button down shirts, waistcoats, and trousers to jeans. It didn't matter that he was obsessed with numbers, and perfection, or as close to it s he could get. All that mattered to him was one simple thing – making him smile. Arthur's dimples were something he cherished more than anything else, and was something he'd fallen in love with.

Eames also remembered how nervous he'd been when Arthur had asked about what he did, and while he was proud of being an elementary school teacher, he felt that someone like Arthur would always look down on him. He remembered how relieved he'd been when Arthur didn't care about what he did, that he actually had a high opinion of teachers because of what they did, and how it just made him a better person because of it. Eames may have fallen even more in love after that conversation.

When they'd discussed moving in together, he'd been even more nervous, wondering if maybe it wasn't a mistake when they fought more that first week than they ever had. They'd both had short tempers that week, what with stress from both of their jobs, and adding the stress of living together just seemed to ignite it. In the end they found a way to work around it, deciding it was best for them to sit and talk about things before they ever got out of hand again, and it eventually paved the way for the next step in their relationship.

He'd never felt nerves like he felt before he actually popped the question. Eames remembered feeling like he should be running far away from Arthur instead of towards him. As much as he loved the man, he was afraid of rejection, of being told no. He'd always been that way – a little bit afraid of being rejected because of who he was, or what he did for a living. When his friends had initially set him up with Arthur he'd told them time and time again that he was so far out of his league it wasn't even funny. And their first couple of dates did more than prove that to him. But the longer they were together the more at ease he'd felt.

Until he decided it was time to propose. And then all the insecurities came flooding back. But he had their friends backing, remembered being told that it was unlikely that Arthur would turn him down, and during the dinner he'd prepared for their second anniversary decided to take the inevitable plunge. Eames remembered how scared he'd been as Arthur just stared at him, at how slowly time seemed to move, and when he finally got an answer it was as if all his fears had been abated, and didn't think he could ever be _that_ happy.

None of that could compare when they'd decided to start the adoption process. When they'd first started making inquires, they wanted to make certain that they weren't married yet wasn't going to cause any sort of problem. Neither of them wanted a civil ceremony, and having heard the whisperings of marriage coming to the ballot in Seattle, they had decided to wait and see. But if it was going to cause problems they would rectify it. When they were told it wouldn't, they were visibly relieved and decided to go forward.

Their lives had been completely turned upside down with all the paperwork, home visits by the social worker, interviews making certain they were ready for the possibility of more than one child, and at one point Eames had thought about giving up. It was Arthur who reminded them that the end would justify the means, and they continued on. Neither of them honestly thought it would ever get this far. And now that it had? All those nerves came flooding back.

"Yes, yes of course I'm still here," he quickly explained to Corrine, "what? Are you sure? You're – you're certain? Of course, yeah we'll be there after the holiday."

Hanging up the phone, he walked back out of their main living room, and onto the veranda. Everyone seemed to have stopped their conversations and were looking directly at him. Arthur included. Normally Eames wouldn't have minded being the centre of attention, but with the news that they were going to be adopting twins all he wanted was Arthur. Their friends and family would find out eventually. For a brief moment, he thought it should just be them. They'd started this together, and he would be the first to know.

Without even acknowledging anyone else, and without any sort of warning, he cupped his husband's head between his hands and kissed him. It didn't matter that everyone was whistling and cheering. All that mattered was Arthur, and the fact they were going to be a _family._ Resting his forehead against Arthur's, the only thing he could think of saying was, "Happy New Year, _dad_."


End file.
